


hold on

by maleclipse



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Fusion, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hope, Immortal Husbands, M/M, POV Outsider, Reunions, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maleclipse/pseuds/maleclipse
Summary: ”There was a man,” Mónica started, her voice shivering and her face wet from the sweat. ”There was a man, in a… coffin? I think? It felt like— it felt like he was drowning and— God, he was trying to scream and get out, but he kept drowning— and waking up,” she told, laying her gaze on Nairobi. ”It wasn’t a dream, was it?””His name was Martín.”(or, the old guard au.)
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 21
Kudos: 112





	1. i still want you

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! this is based on the movie the old guard and if you haven't watched it yet, i really recommend for you to do that<3 but don't worry, if you haven't seen it yet - i tried to make this so you could understand it without. 
> 
> TW, drowning.

Flashes of ocean, feeling of not being able to breathe, the panic that followed - Mónica woke up screaming.

”What is it?” someone asked, Nairobi, she realised. Mónica’s hair was covering her eyes, but she could still see the worried look on the surprisingly kind woman’s face. She had came to know this person in the most weird circumstances, but it eased to know that she was accepting and caring. 

”Just—” the words got stuck in her throat and she tried again, ”just a bad dream.” 

Yes, a bad dream was the only way to describe it. Mónica had seen it before, the ocean, and felt it before, not being able to breathe, when she had started dreaming about everyone else. She had found out they all dreamed about each other, until they met each other. 

Nairobi rolled closer on the bed they were laying on, and asked, ”About what?”

A knock on the door, Mónica silently saying, ”Come in.” 

It was Denver, looking at her worriedly. Why was everyone so kind to her? ”I heard you scream,” he said, ”I still have nightmares, too.”

Denver had been the one finding her, saving her from being locked up. Now he walked inside with that same determination, confirming Mónica once again that he was to be trusted. 

Mónica let out a shaky breath and nodded. ”Yeah, nightmares,” she said. 

”Tell us about it,” Nairobi asked, laying a hand on Monica’s wrist. 

”Okay,” she answered, nodded again and tried to gather her breath, ”okay.” 

”There was a man,” Mónica started, her voice shivering and her face wet from the sweat. ”There was a man, in a… coffin? I think? It felt like— it felt like he was drowning and— God, he was trying to scream and get out, but he kept drowning— and waking up,” she told, laying her gaze on Nairobi. ”It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Nairobi shook her head and Denver sat on the bed, looking sad. They exchanged looks, like Mónica wouldn’t notice it. 

God, she still felt like she was drowning. 

”His name was Martín,” Nairobi started quietly, ”and he did everything for Andrés. One time, it was fatal.” 

_No_ , Mónica wanted to say, maybe ask a stupid question or two. 

”And he is _alive_?” 

Was he old, too? Will he die? Was he in love with Andrés? Will the dreams get worse? Is Mónica never able to sleep again? 

”Yes, at times. Drowning, all over again,” Denver said, ”and the dreams won’t stop until we meet him in person.” 

Mónica couldn’t think what that was like, she didn’t want to. It had been twenty hours from the moment she found out she was immortal, she was wheeled to a safe house with four other people. She had found out she wasn’t just as immortal as she thought she was and now there was a man locked up in a coffin on the bottom of the ocean and it was _too much._

”I can’t—” 

”Yeah,” Nairobi said, ”I’m still having the dreams too.” 

That sent shivers down Mónica’s spine. ”But you said you were over three hundred?”

”Yes,” Nairobi said, ”and Andrés has been looking for him all this time.” 

That sounded like love. Love from a man that had seemed so cold and distant. 

”What happened?” Mónica whispered. 

”They found them - Martín and Andrés - locked them up,” Denver started, ”and Andrés told, they tried to take him and not Martín…”

”Martín sacrificed himself for Andrés,” Nairobi said, when Denver’s words just faded away, ”and Andrés has been looking ever since.”

Mónica had an urge to cry. 

There were footsteps on the hallway, quieting down as they approached the door Denver had left open. 

Andrés, standing there and stepping inside to quietly lean on the doorframe. 

”Five hundred years. And I won’t stop,” he said. ”You should try and sleep.” 

Andrés was acting kind, too - it was weird for Mónica to see. His face was dark and sad, and for what she could tell, he had heard the whole conversation. 

Mónica was afraid to ask, but she did. ”What was he like?” 

Andrés smiled, his eyes glimmering from the dim light coming from outside. ”Brave. Braver than I’ve ever been.” 

Mónica smiled back. There was surely a story behind all that, but it was a story for another time. 

”He used to say that the dreams were to show that we were destined to be together. He was such a romantic,” Andrés said. ”He is my soulmate, the bravest man I knew. We were together long before we both started dreaming about Sergio. We had the time of our lives, robbed a bank once, lived among monks, spent days in our garden - just sitting there and watching the clouds pass by.” 

That— sounded like a dream, a fairytale, a love story.

”How long?” she asked. 

”Long,” Andrés answered. ”I am old, Mónica.”

She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Joke about Andrés not looking old? Say sorry? 

”I hope we find him,” she decided on, being careful with the word _we_. She didn’t want to intrude. Nairobi squeezed her hand, to say that it’s okay. 

”We will,” Andrés said, ”even oceans feel small when you’ve lived this long, you’ll come to see. Modern technology is amazing, I’m sure we will find him. We have to.” 

Mónica nodded. For some reason, believing Andrés was very easy. When a man speaking fully with his heart was saying something, so determined and straightforward, it was hard to think differently. 

”Go to sleep,” Andrés said, then, laying a look towards them all, ”we’ll talk more in the morning. We only have time in this household.” 

To Mónica, he nodded before stepping away from the room. 

”He loves Martín,” she observed. 

”He does,” Nairobi answered, ”too much, I’m sometimes afraid. But being immortal and all, we sometimes seem to be doing everything more deeply.”

”For what we know, love could be invented by those two,” Denver said as he stood up and smiled. ”You should really try and sleep.” 

Mónica agreed, she was tired. ”Yeah,” she said, ”thank you for— checking on me?” 

She said it to both of them, but only Denver answered with, ”Of course.” 

Monica glanced at Nairobi, met her kind eyes. ”Sleep,” Nairobi said. 

Mónica fell back on the mattress and closed her eyes, Andrés’ sad, but determined, face flashing before her eyes.


	2. i still need you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter yall wanted so bad.😼 i will try to answer everyones comments soon but i am so very thankful for them<3
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING, kinda graphic mentions of drowning.

Dreaming - that was what had kept Martín sane throughout the years. Glimpses of the life of the others, of Andrés and Sergio, of the new ones. They had names. Denver, Nairobi, now Mónica. Martín kept repeating them in his mind, over and over again. He saw through their eyes, learned things from them all and saw the grief on Andrés’ face. He wanted to hold him, tell him that it was alright. He was alright. 

He saw their missions, doing what was right and natural for them. He saw Andrés sometimes going _feral_ , woke up and wanted to scream how _stupid_ he was. He couldn’t scream, though, his lungs filling with water every time he opened his mouth to try. He sometimes forgot where he was, the momentarily panic filling him - banging the sides of the metal coffin. 

But if you forgot the panic, the actual drowning felt like nothing. Martín didn’t feel the pain, he didn’t feel anything - he just let go, let himself go, wishing it wasn’t his time yet. 

He knew something was up when he woke up and was met with brightness - sun, he realised. He gasped for breath and blinked his eyes open, blinked again and again. There was nothing in front of his eyes, just blue. Sky. 

_Sky._ No - a smiling face? 

His first reaction was to look around, take in the views. A dream? Couldn’t be, it was too clear. Two people, that one woman right next to him. Three. A boat. They were on a boat.

”The dreams stopped when we pulled you out of the ocean,” the woman said. It sounded very far away, but also so loud - almost expected, when all Martín had heard for years was the low buzzing of the ocean and his own screams. It felt weird, and it took him time to get used to it. ”It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Martín.” 

Her voice was soothing, her eyes kind. Martín tried to focus on them. Her hair was blond and curly - Mónica, his mind registered. He knew her, the newest one. 

”You should’ve seen Andrés - I haven’t seen that much emotion on his face, ever. When you get used to being out, we can go find him together,” she continued. _Andrés_ , Martín could only think of, already sitting up. There was a small hand keeping him down. ”Not yet, it has been ten minutes. Andrés told us to talk to you, to get you used to this. He’s on the lower deck, waiting for you with Sergio. You remember Sergio?” 

Of course Martín remembered Sergio. He was like an annoying younger brother for Andrés. 

”A—,” he ended up coughing the letter out. He still felt like he was on the bottom of the ocean. Was that where he had been?

”Keep going,” Mónica said, ”you are safe now.”

Martín took another sharp breath in. 

” _Andrés_ ,” he whispered. Mónica’s smile widened. 

He fell asleep, or passed out (or died, who knows), then. Dreamless sleep, finally after lord knows how many years. No sight of Denver, or Nairobi, or Mónica. Just dark, dark, dark— it couldn’t have lasted long, as he woke up in panic, familiar hands holding him down. 

”Andrés,” he repeated raspily, jerking up to sit. There was Andrés, in front of him, _holding him._

And, _”Martín,”_ Andrés said, tears in his eyes and with that goddamn, lopsided grin on his face. His voice was still a bit too loud for Martín’s ears, but it also was so familiar and existing and _there._

”Andrés,” Martín said again, and again, _”Andrés.”_

Maybe it was the only word he knew how to say, after all those early years of repeating it - yelling it from the bottom of the ocean.

”Yes,” Andrés said, ”It’s me.” 

Martín moved quickly, wrapped his arms around Andrés tightly, buried his head on the hooded shirt Andrés was wearing. They held each other, repeating their names, Andrés staining the shirt someone had gotten for Martín with his tears. 

”Oh, how I missed you, cariño,” Andrés whispered, ”you’ve been gone for so long, my darling, so long” 

Martín would have cried, if he had any tears left. 

”Andrés,” he only said again. 

”Let me look at you,” Andrés said, bringing his hands to Martín’s cheeks, ”I haven’t seen you in so long, only pictures in my mind.” 

Andrés’s thumb circled his cheeks, his eyes were on Martín’s. ”Memories don’t last forever,” he said. 

Martín had to gather his breath to answer, with a quiet, ”but _we_ will.” 

Andrés smiled, Martín could see it as far as in his eyes. 

”Yes,” he said with a broken laughter, ”we will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/LACASADEKLAUS)
> 
> & as always, every comment and kudos means everything to me.


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